Officer Kirkland
by Sketchin
Summary: The name is Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland, and I work with my brothers. We solve murders, kidnappings, suicides, anything most people can't handle. Human AU. M for torture.
1. Chapter 1

The name's Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland.

Occupation? Well, I work in the MIT with my two adopted little brothers. Though, my parents did not adopt them, I did.

These two had lost their parents in my first murder case, the older one was 16 while the younger was only 15. The young one had a fire to him, constantly trying to protect his big brother from the big scary police men entering their house and taking pictures of their once living relatives. I barely noticed them until the older one tugged on my sleeve, tears in his eyes before asking me if I could retrieve something for him.

From that moment on, I decided to help those boys as much as I could, but I never expected to be the one to take them in after the murderer was caught.

They refused to call me dad, the older one almost yelling at me that I could never replace 'daddy'... I agreed to not be called dad or daddy or whatever, I was only 5 years older than them. I asked them to call me Arthur and if anyone were to ask our relationship, just say I was their big brother.

"Yo! Arthur! We got a case!" The obnoxious, American cry causes my whole being to cringe. His blond hair almost shaking to match the adrenaline running through his bright blue eyes. "Matthew is already there, he answered Jett's call!"

Matthew's always there first, being the best to deal with people in sensitive situations, there was something about his gentle purple eyes and the ever present smile that made people trust him so quickly. He's so different to his little brother, I sometimes sit in awe just wondering how he's related to a windbag of energy like Alfred.

"Alright, what's the case?" I stroll past Alfred, knowing full well that he would follow close behind, despite his distaste for my authority. "Murder? Kidnapping?"

Alfred's face is almost buried completely into the paperwork, excited to exact justice onto the 'evil-doers of the world' because he's the 'hero'.

"Kidnapping, the call was by an Antonio ... something Spanish. He was panicked and his words were slurred."

I sigh and glance at my rookie partner, "Was he drunk?"

Alfred shakes his head and puts the paperwork under his arm, "Mattie said he was completely sober, although he suffered a blow to the head so we have to go to the scene of the crime to talk to him."

I nod, getting into the cruiser passenger seat and holding out my hand for the oncoming files which held the address and the man's name that Alfred failed to even attempt to pronounce.

"Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo... It wasn't that hard to say Alfred."

Alfred starts the car with a huff and drives, heading to the address he peeked at as he was telling me what he knew about the case.

As the car parks, I inspect the address briefly.

The address leads to a winery that seems to double as a very nice looking restaurant. Matthew sits at one of the outdoor tables with a young Spanish man who's holding an icepack to the back of his head.

The Spanish man's emerald eyes look like pools of gems as tears slowly rolled down his sun-kissed face, which were slowly wiped away with well-worn hands showing scars as trophies of long days of hard work.

Slowly emerging from the car, I take in the unfamiliar smell of grapevines and tomatoes which seems to create harmony with the scent of wet dirt and roses.

The closer to the sobbing man we get, the more I begin to realize he's blubbering in some other language, repeating things like, "Lovi", "Feli" and "Romulus".

Matthew softly rubbed the man's back, comforting him with gentle words and a soft tone. This is what Matthew knew best, how to calm down a victim or witness and it always makes me feel assured, when he's at the scene first, we will get answers.

Concluding that it will still be a while before we can really talk to the man, Alfred and I head inside to find any evidence to suggest struggle or possible weapon.

The restaurant dining area looks unaffected by the crime that took place, chairs still on tables and nothing had been set up to start the work day as of yet. A quick check of the till shows no sign of money or that it was forced open, however it only took a quick press of a button so chances are they don't leave their money onsite. Alfred decides to check the cellar as I move towards the back, guessing that's where the kitchen was.

The kitchen, is in a much worse state then the dining area. Knives scattered around, broken glass and blood littering the floor. I look around, searching for a broken window before noticing how natural the light is.

Looking up, I see the broken globe, hanging and swaying gently, which makes me suspect that this didn't happen this morning. Kneeling slowly, I look closer at the blood spills, to notice that the blood was dry, causing a soft, "bloody hell" from the back of my throat.

As my thoughts lead me to stand and look for Alfred, that very American enters and looks at the room in slight shock, "Nothing in the cellar".

I nod and with a slight twitch of my head, I beckon him over, "The blood is dry, and the light is broken. The kidnappers probably broke the light to make sure the victims couldn't see before taking them, last night."

Alfred nods in understanding, resting a hand on my shoulder, "Come on dude, Antonio might be ready to talk now"

Antonio, looks at us, pleading for us to find them.

He looks confused, possibly questioning why?

Many loved ones look like this, whether it be murder, kidnapping, suicide, anything that I am usually called in for.

"Would you be able to answer my questions Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo?"

The man nods, watching me, obviously fully aware despite the nasty bruise on the back of his head. Thankfully, paramedics that arrived shortly after we did gave us the all clear.

"What time did you notice the Vargas' were missing?"

The Spaniard's mind reels for an answer, I watch his brows furrow as he attempts to remember, "I-I start work at around 6:00am, so I noticed a-around then"

My brows knit together as my head tilts to the left. I attempt to word the next question carefully, hoping he doesn't take my question in a bad way and shuts off, "Why didn't you let us know until 8:00am?"

He sighs and points to his head, "I rushed to the phone and something hit my head officer. I woke up and called you straight away"

Matthew nods, "I saw the smashed lamp near the phone, I'm sure that was used."

I nod, this adds to the investigation. The kidnappers either waited for Antonio to get there or they had done the kidnapping close to 6:00am.

"What are the victim's names Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo?" Alfred pipes up, obviously thinking it would help find an enemy of the family or a record of the family somewhere.

The green eyes tear up slightly, as the eyes of loved ones do in times like this. You never think you would have to answer this question for this reason, "Romulus Rome Vargas, Lovino Romano Vargas and Feliciano Veneciano Vargas"

I take notes, to be sure I can come back to the information Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo has given us, "What do they look like? And what is your relationship with these men?"

Antonio sighs softly, thinking for a while as if to remember what these men looked like, despite him probably seeing them the previous day, "Romulus is a 53 year old tanned man, brown, curly hair, brown eyes and a rough stubble. He's pretty muscly for an old man too, he's my boss. Lovino is 22, he has brown straight hair, slightly tanned, and he's very lean. Feliciano is 20, he has brown straight hair, brown eyes, he looks skinny and he's white. I grew up with Lovino and Feliciano."

I am pleased with such a description. Sure, this sounds very general, but it is descriptive enough for me to get started.

With a wave, and a last assurance that Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo can call us at any time, we head to the office to get started.

I plant myself at my desk, and let Alfred go through the files.

He has a knack for computers that I'll never understand. This skill I am grateful for due to the fact that I barely understand how 'Facebook' works.

Pulling out a pen and some paper, I sketch what I remember of the scene, labelling where we saw broken glass, blood and knives. There was a definite struggle, which is acceptable. It's possible the knives were for self-defense, but we still had to hear from the tests to see whose blood was spilled. Either the victim's or the perpetrators, I'm hoping the latter so we might have a clue as to who did the deed.

Who's doing the tests? My little brother, Toby.

Toby and Jett, the two are twins and are biologically my little brothers. Jett works as an emergency dispatcher, and I'd pick no one else for the job. He's very irresponsible and a laid-back but strange young man, however when an emergency occurs he is quick to concentrate, thinking with a level head and doing whatever he can to be sure the correct authorities are on their way.

Toby always wanted to work in Forensics and just recently he had finished all the required courses, with a few words to the boss I got him a job. This is his first case and I could see the enthusiasm burning in his kind eyes as I gave him the blood sample.

Toby is an intelligent young lad, but with a calm and carefree smile to balance out that ferocious genius. Though those boys tend to get into little arguments about who is tougher considering their jobs to be scarier than the other.

The twins never fail to make Alfred, Matthew and I smile, even if it isn't intentional.

As quickly as he left, Alfred returns with files, hopefully giving me a better idea as to who we're looking for.

"Lovino Vargas, arrested a few times for vandalism, assault, threatening behavior and petty theft." Alfred reads, removing a piece of paper after each crime, "Some of these on many accounts, he's violent and short-tempered dude."

Nodding, Alfred rested most of the papers onto my desk before reading once more, "Feliciano Vargas was arrested for petty theft." resting the final paper with the others. "The worse the both of them was detainment overnight."

Looking of the photos attached to the files, I am grateful we now have, I see it wouldn't be very difficult to point the two out in a crowd, "What about Romulus?"

Alfred points to a line on the files, it was a list of living family members, "Romulus Vargas in their Grandpa and legal guardian."

This isn't a surprising fact, but it is confirmation for previous suspicions, now one question was left. Why kidnap these people?

By looking at the fact that both Vargas boys have committed theft, it seems safe to suggest that this family aren't overly rich. Is this a way to collect from the Vargas family, or a way to collect from Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo, who has stated he grew up around this family?

"So, you got the blood to Toby? Scraping it off the floor wasn't fun" Alfred sits on my desk, sighing softly. A new case either meant we would save a life, or see something horrific, and just like me, he's hoping it ends in saving these boys and their grandfather.

"Toby was more than excited to look at the specimen... Probably to rub it in Jett's face" I laugh as I stand, ready to go and ask Toby about any findings. If the blood's DNA shows up on the database, it'll make our job a lot easier. Just as I'm about to leave, I run into Matthew... literally, "Ah! Matthew, I didn't see you there"

Matthew smiles his signature smile with a small shrug, "You never do. Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo decided to stay at the restaurant in case we needed anything, and he gave us permission to look at these." He holds out a log book, I'm guessing of the names of customers who went to the restaurant.

"Alright, Alfred keeping looking at the databases, any murders, kidnappings or anything like that in the past year or two in the local area." with a salute, Alfred was at his laptop, searching as quickly as the young man could, "Matthew, we're going to sit and list any names in that log that visited frequently in the past few months." With that, the three of us search for any names that look familiar.

By the end of the day, we had a list of ten different families, enjoying either the wine or the food on many separate occasions and a list of twenty murders and kidnappings over the past two years.

"Looks like we're taking work home with us"

"Good evening Arthur!"

That voice, that thick accent... Oh fuck no.

"I hope you don't mind but I picked Peter up for Jett, apparently there was a um football game this afternoon"

I feel the left side of my face twitch, as my fists prepare themselves to begin strangulation.

"Arthur?"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE FROG!"

Almost as quickly as I saw him, he leaves. Why is he always here? Why!?

"WHO LET FRANCIS IN!?"

Before long, Peter is in front of me, a stubborn pout pointing towards the floor in front of my feet. "I-I did, I'm sorry Arthur"

A groan of annoyance escapes my grit teeth, not wanting to be mad at the boy, but definitely not pleased with him at the same time.

Who's Peter?

Peter is a young boy I'm taking care of. Another child of murder victims I promised to protect and somehow ended up taking it. The boy is only 7 years old, 5 when his mother and father were kidnapped and killed. He's usually a very happy boy, full of energy and laughter, however if Arthur did or said something he didn't like, he did a complete 180.

"Call me before letting someone into the house, whether you know them or not" putting the documents down I try to word my sentences well. Kids don't like being told what to do, I've figured that out over and over again. "I've seen too many cases of kids taken by family friends."

Peter's nose crinkles, letting me know I said the wrong thing. He eyes the paperwork I have to work on, and has found his topic to yell at me about today, "At least Francis takes the time to pick me up and hang out with me! Unlike you! You're supposed to be my big brother and you're always working!"

An annoyed sigh escapes my lips. It's the same every time I bring work home with me, Peter uses it as a reason to blame me for his behavior. "I'm sorry I get cases Peter, but if I can't pick you up I get one of the others to do so-"

"But YOU adopted me! Not them!"

I've never been able to respond to this, today was no exception. It is true that I should hold responsibility, but I don't always have the time, "I promise to pick you up tomorrow, ok?"

"…. Pinkie swear" Peter holds out his pinkie expectantly, knowing I am a man of my word. I wrap my larger pinkie around his, trying to look as sincere as I could.

"Pinkie swear, I will pick you up from school tomorrow afternoon."

With a nod, Peter walked away. His attempt at looking like an adult causes a chuckle to bubble up. My smile remains until I hear Alfred behind me, "You going to keep it this time?"

I pick my work back up and make my way to the kitchen, ignoring the question I don't know how to answer. Sitting the work on the table, I wander over to the kettle and open the window. I deep breath of fresh air, before resting the fag between my teeth. Am I proud of my habit? No, that's the only answer needed.

This case, it isn't much different from others, the motive was possibly revenge for whoever Lovino Vargas assaulted, or we're going to get a ransom note or call. With tea in hand and lit cigarette in mouth, I pick up Lovino's file and look for any clues.

'Lovino Vargas, arrested for assault on Ludwig and Gilbert Bielschmidt. When asked for a motive, Mr. Vargas expressed a dislike for the relationship between Ludwig Bielschmidt and Feliciano Vargas. The Bielschmidts did not charge Mr. Vargas, however it is advised to proceed with caution when dealing with Mr. Vargas.'

I see what Alfred meant when he said violent. Attacking a man and his brother because he disapproved of a relationship? Seems a bit overboard. "Alfred!"

Alfred runs in, though frowning disapprovingly at the stick in my mouth, "Yeah Artie?"

"Use that laptop to look for the Bielschmidt residence, the men Lovino Vargas assaulted might have a hand in this." That's when he gives me that face, the 'you know what I want' face. With a glare, I put the cigarette out and throw out the butt, "There, now go"

As he walks off, I make sure he's out of eyesight before I light up another one.

This is my house, I'll smoke if I want to.

With a cheer and hoot travelling through the house, I can easily guess who is home and who won their little game. Jett, always loud and never one to keep a win to himself.

I wish I could respond with the same enthusiasm, but Jett shrugged his duty as a big brother to be a part of this game, again. I wander over to the front door, watching him jump around in excitement, picking up Peter, who had come in curiously and see what was going on, and spinning with his chant, "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!"

After that year in Australia, Jett has fallen in love with the culture, to my dismay. It contains loud music, meat cooked outside and loud cheers during rough sports.

The Frenchman, who had been likely waiting for his chance, sneaks in behind Jett. "Arthurrrr, can I come in now?"

Francis, is not a bad guy. In fact I have known him for as long as I could remember; however I don't like surprise visits. Francis does respect this to a certain degree, asking permission after he'd been kicked out. "Come in, I'll make you some tea"

Francis grins and hugs me in an affectionate embrace, "Actually, do you have some coffee?"

With a groan I lead him into the kitchen to make his bitter drink. He sits and looks over my work which is highly illegal, however he's done it so many times before and it has caused no harm thus far.

"Kidnapping? Still doing that kind of work?" Francis is always concerned. He thinks my job will get me killed one day and he's probably right.

"I want to do what I can, how is the restaurant going?" L'Amour…. A simple and easy to understand name. Francis owns a restaurant that specializes in French cuisine and loving atmospheres…. In his opinion not mine.

"Ah, booming as always. Though, this Italian winery and restaurant is quickly overtaking moi when it comes to customers"

My eyebrow arches slightly as he lights his own cancer stick. This, could be a motive, "Oh really? How so?"

Francis smiles and leans back, smoke lazily floating into the air, "Ah oui, it's very popular and with the crop just outside to assure customers the food is fresh. It has quickly grown in popularity."

Matthew wanders in and hugs Francis tightly. The two have close which I'm happy about since Matthew and I aren't overly close and Matthew needs an older role model. Francis has helped him with his shyness.

"Hey big brother Francis"

"Ah, Bonjour Mattheiu, how is work?"

I let the two talk as I took note of what Francis said. Could the restaurant's popularity cause the attack? Sounds like something straight out of a film.

Alfred wanders in soon after, blocking his mouth and nose in a sign of defiance, "The Bielschmidts don't live in this area. They have a temporary restraining order against Lovino Vargas. The hearing was going to be in a few weeks."

I stare at Alfred emotionlessly, waiting for him to drop his hand in defeat as he always does. All I get in return, is him turning his back and shouting back, "I'll stop Peter from coming in!"


	2. Chapter 2

Ciao, my name is Lovino Vargas.

I'm a farmer and waiter at my Nonno's restaurant. Speaking of Nonno, he's sitting under me; holding myself and my little brother Feliciano on his lap as Feli's wails echo through the room. They are the only sound in the room that seems to be made of black. I can't see anything, and can only feel Nonno's chest against my back.

We're lucky whoever grabbed us doesn't care if we make noise, because Feli hasn't shut up since we were taken.

Before I could shuffle over to my brother and comfort him like Nonno was, the door to the room we were in opened. Two tall figures walk over and tower over us, which isn't too difficult considering we're sitting on the floor.

"Which one of you is Lovino Vargas?"

The accent isn't hard to place, it's Italian. Why? Why me?

I can't respond, I'm frozen to my grandfather's chest. I feel tears threaten to fall and my whole body shake in fear. Nonno holds us both closer and glares at the men threatening our family, "Who's asking?"

Suddenly, there's a bang; Nonno's hold on us slackens and Feliciano's wails turn into screams of fear and anguish. I dare a glance at Nonno's face to find blood, and a new hole between his eyes. I can't take my eyes off his face; he's going to be whisper comforts to us again… He has to… PLEASE! HE HAS TO!

I can't help the whimper that scurries past my trembling lips, "N-Nonno?"

A booming voice breaks through Feli's cries, "I won't ask again, Lovino Vargas?"

I can't let them hurt Feli. I can't let them kill my brother too.

I stand, ignoring the screams and wails of my little brother. I stare at the men in the same defiance Nonno had. But the tears and snot smeared all over my face probably weakens the effect. Before I knew it, I'm in front of a wooden door shaking.

"Go in there"

What's in there?

Are they going to kill me too?

What's going on?

I open the door slowly to see two men wearing balaclavas. It's a cliché dark room with a table carrying two glasses of wine in front of two chairs.

One holds a seat out, "Take a seat"

He sounds Spanish. On his accent alone, since that's all I have to go off.

To avoid getting myself or my brother into trouble, I sit on the seat and tuck it in behind the table.

Don't sip the wine, I know this trick.

Get them to drink, drag their near dead body out to the middle of nowhere.

The man that held out my seat stands behind me as the other sits across from me and sips his wine. It's to make me believe mine isn't poisoned or something, but I'm not falling for it. I try to keep as calm as I can and not look afraid, any vulnerability and they will take advantage of it.

"Lovino Vargas, big mafia lap dog of Italy right?"

The one across from me, Italian, leans over in interest; interest in my past.

Goddamnit, I thought I left that all in Italy and yet it followed me here.

"I might be"

"Not as big as his boss Romulus Vargas right?"

I glare at him for even daring to say Nonno's full name. He doesn't deserve to utter such a name with pride, "You just killed him, not me. So, I guess I am the big boss now"

"So his debt falls to you"

With that, the Spanish man puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes to prove his strength, "Debt? We paid them all"

I'm not lying, we paid them all before running away. We didn't want them to follow us… We didn't want Feliciano to find out.

"Funny, your Grandpa owed mine. But then, my grandpa died"

"Then, what are you doing with me? I owe you nothing"

The Italian laughs softly and sips his wine once again, "you said so yourself, you're the big boss now"

I grit my teeth as I know it's the truth. He's using my own words against me, coaxing the right ones to use first. "How big is the debt? Let my brother and I back to the restaurant and we can get the money to you"

Suddenly, the Spaniard has my hands pinned to the table and my back arched in an awkward position so I can't move. Keeping calm is becoming so much harder with each breath I feel roll down my neck since he has his own body on mine to restrain me.

"Let you go? No, you know how this works Lovino," The Italian stands and walks over, running a finger over my knuckles, "we keep you until someone close to you gives us our money. We just need to put you in danger to give them incentive"

I struggle as much as I can, pulling against the Spaniards hands as hard as I can. I can't keep calm anymore.

I have to get out!

I have to run!

Run away!

WHY CAN'T I RUN!?

I hear a Spanish accent by my ear in amongst my panic, "Awww, how cute"

I can't breathe

My chest! It hurts!

The door, it opens. It closes.

Someone else is in the room, will they help me?!

"Ah Fratello, just in time, I've picked some"

I hear a higher-pitched Italian speak with cruel undertones, "Which ones?"

Which what!?

WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT!?

"Left, ring and pinkie"

…. M-My fingers?

I finally find my voice again, but it's full of panic, "L-LET ME GO! PLEASE!"

"I'm not getting blood on my new clothes, you enjoy Luci!"

Door opens, closes.

Someone's left.

I'm doomed.

With a chuckle, I hear a thud of metal shake the table my body is forced onto. "Don't worry, we're only taking two; you'll have eight left."

I close my eyes.

This is a dream, it has to be.

That's all that's running through my head.

As the tears pour down my face.

As I feel the cold metal against my left pinkie finger.

Up until…

There is a suddenly snip and pain shoots up my arm.

I open my eyes to find blood pouring out of my hand, shaking in agony and chest tightening.

I-It's gone. It's gone! IT'S GONE!

I can't do anything, but scream, and struggle harder.

The Italian gets the device ready to cut my ring finger off as the Spaniard holds my tighter in an attempt to stop my moving.

With another scream, that one's gone too and the world fades to darkness.

…

Hello, my name is Matthew, Matthew Williams…

Ok, legally it's Matthew Kirkland but I prefer to go by Matthew Williams in a social situation.

I'm in a police cruiser.

Um!

Not because I did anything wrong or anything, I'm a negotiator for the MIT with my brothers. In fact, my adoptive big brother Arthur is the one driving next to me.

As in, in the same car as me n-not in a separate car.

We're heading to the Bielschmidt household to talk about Lovino Vargas' attack on them a couple of months ago. Apparently it was just focussed on the younger brother, Ludwig, and then it continued to the older brother, Gilbert, when he tried to get involved.

The younger brother hadn't been arrested, however there have been complaints against the older in bars. Police had been called but only to calm the situation, no arrests made.

As the car slows to a halt, I look at the house. A very plain, but charming house. Definitely big enough to house two fully grown men.

Arthur gets out of the car and leads me to the front door, "Ok, we have to try and not give the wrong idea. They are not suspects, we just would like to know more"

Before I could respond, the front door swings open and I'm on the ground, looking up into bright red eyes. They stared back in shock as the one behind those eyes' mouth opened and closed in a failed attempt at apologizing.

Heat rushed to my face, letting me know I was going a vibrant shade of red, "I-I'm sorry sir."

Everything stopped for a moment, before the man got off me with a chuckle, "Nah, my fault. No need to apologize"

I take his open hand to help me stand up again. The blush on my face is still so prominent, "I-I'm sorry"

Arthur is currently staring at us annoyed, as if human interaction is the most irritating thing he had ever seen.

"Brother, leave the police alone."

The stern German voice radiates from a blond, muscular young man watching us from the front door. The red-eyed man, which I'm guessing is his brother, says grinning widely, "It wasn't me, honest!"

…..

The blonde man, Ludwig, across from me shakes his head in disbelief.

His older brother, Gilbert, has an arm around him for comfort. "I know it's hard to hear Mr. Bielschmidt, but I need you to answer questions in relation to your relationship with the Vargas'"

Matthew, sitting next to me, gives the boys a sympathetic look. I wait for his signal to let me know they will be fine with my questions. The younger Bielschmidt nods as the older one glares at me. Probably for my lack of care for their emotions.

"We have filed that Lovino Vargas attacked you a while ago, over a relationship I presume?"

Ludwig began to blush, and somehow the well-built man seemed to shrink and curl in on himself slightly in embarrassment, "U-Um, this is true."

"What kind of relationship do you have with Feliciano Vargas?"

Ludwig's blush grew and he seemed to fidget slightly, "W-We are… um, good friends"

The question, obviously embarrasses him. Are they just close friends? Either way, "Mr. Bielschmidt, your behaviour indicates that you had a very close relationship with Mr. Vargas. Is this the reason his brother attacked?"

Both brothers nod without hesitation. Though the answer to that question already seemed fairly obvious. "Do you know someone who didn't like them?"

The older, Gilbert, spoke up harshly, "Not many people liked Lovino. He's... hard to get along with. However his little brother-"A smile crossed his face as his voice seemed to soften, "Feliciano was like a gift from heaven. Made to make you smile."

Both brothers seem fond of the younger, so placing him in any danger would not be in their best interest. However by the way they speak about the older, they couldn't seem to care less about his safety. Is that enough to take the suspicion further?

"And your feelings on their grandfather?"

The younger pipes up, not showing any real emotion, "He's a strange old man that means no harm. Not much else to say about him."

Not enough to prove these men would put the family in harm's way. They seem neutral about the grandfather and love the younger brother. Putting them in harm's way doesn't benefit them.

"Anyone the Vargas' tried to avoid? For a reason unexplained?" Maybe they had made their enemies before meeting the Bielschmidts. I hope the Bielschmidts notice something.

"Well, there was one café they refused to go anywhere near." The younger furrows his brow in thought as he speaks. Memory working in our favour, "Feliciano said it just creeps them out looking at the shop."

"Know what it's called, or where we can find it?"

The older grins, eyes full of mischief that leads me to be wary on whether to believe him or not, "It's my favourite place to hang out sober, it's called Cyanide Cupcake"

A snort leaves my nose before I can stop it, muffled laughter only just escaping my lips as the German's mouth turns into a scowl.

Can you blame me for laughing? It sounds like a bakery for children.

"I-I'm sorry, never heard of it."

The older pulls out his wallet and hands over a business card of sorts, "Here's the address, the owner is a bit weird though."

…..

Oh my god.

Arthur laughed at a suspect.

WHY!?

Oh dear god!

And why him!?

I feel like screaming at him.

He gets into the cruiser as I turn to Gilbert, who seems to enjoy glaring at Arthur. "I-I'm sorry h-he laughed at y-you Mr. Bielschmidt"

Gilbert grins at me, His once intimidating teeth seeming goofy now, "Ah, it's not your fault. Sorry you have to work with him"

A soft laugh leaves my lips as my phone calls to me from my pocket. I wave at Gilbert as I turn and pull out said device, "Hello?"

"Dude, Mr Spanish guy called and requested you" Alfred speaks with determination that almost scares me. He doesn't sound like his usual energetic self, more serious.

"Why? What's happened?"

….

Hola, my name is Antonio.

I work at my best friends' grandpa's farm. Only the farming bit, usually the kitchen is reserved for Feli and Romulus. Sometimes I would wait tables with Lovi, but usually he doesn't let me.

I'm currently keeping an eye on their restaurant for them until they get back…..

If they come back.

I tend to the fields and clean up the outside dining area while letting anyone who tries to come to eat that we're currently closed until further notice. I like working, it keeps my mind off of everything.

Work work work.

Well, the fruits have been watered. What's next on the list? Hmmm

Ah, I know!

Mail!

I make my way over to the box, smiling and drinking in the heat of the sun as I go. I love the smell of outside, the feel of the breeze and even the burning of the sun. It's the only way to feel life.

Though, there's a weird smell in the air. It gets stronger as I get to the mailbox.

I don't think I've ever caught this scent before.

It's so, meaty and rotten.

As I stand over the box itself, I feel tears build up in my eyes. What is in it!? What is that stench!?

My whole body is shaking, in disgust. The urge to run away was growing, but I also can't stop myself from wondering what is in there that smalls so bad I want to run?

I reach for the top of the box, and slowly pull it open.

What I find is a yellow, manilla folder and nothing else. Nothing's written on it and there's no stamp, suggesting it wasn't sent through the post.

I know this is where the scent is coming from and I'm not game enough to put it to my nose to check.

My curiosity forces me, to open the folder.

I peek inside.

My body shakes more.

I drop the folder.

I scream.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting Mr. Fernandez Carriedo home was the easy part.

Discussing the note that sat on the table between Alfred and I was a more difficult situation.

The fingers that came with the note have already been sent to Toby to identify whose fingers they are, but Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo has already assured us that they are Lovino Vargas'.

Reading the note gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach,

"Hellooo ;)

I see you've found the fingers of a very special boy :P . He wanted to hold on to them for dear life but we found a way to confiscate them. We really want the money these shits owe us so we thought we'd show you what happens if we didn't get the 4 grand.

If we don't see that money soon, you'll never see his perfect little face again. Take the money to the Cyanide Cupcake café at 2pm in 3 days.

Love ya 3 "

Four thousand dollars?

Why do they want this money?

Who is he?

At least now we have a motive, but we also have a time limit. Alfred spoke up for the first time since we sat down in the Vargas-Carriedo house, "Arthur, are they going to kill a man?"

A part of me wishes I could reassure him and let him know that the note meant something else, but there's no point in lying, "I hope not, but it sounds like they will."

That's when the alarm in my phone screamed.

I stand and make my way to the front door, "You two handle the evidence, I have to go!"

That's when I'm stopped by Mr. Fernandez-Carriedo. His full body used to stop me from going anywhere, "W-Where are you going? Y-You h-have to find them!"

"Sir I have to go, if you need anything you can talk to either Officer Matthew or Alfred."

As I make my way around him, he grabs my arm and pulls me slightly into the house, "You can't leave! You have to find them!"

"I will be back tomorrow, let go of my arm!"

Matthew walks in and gently coaxes his grip off my arm, "Sir, please let Officer Kirkland go"

The grip on my arm lightens, but the emotional man holds a death glare on me as I leave. This man probably thinks I don't care, and I don't…. I don't care about what he thinks, but I will get those boys and their grandfather out of their current situation.

But first, I have to pick Peter up from school.

Because of the interruption, I didn't have time to change out of my uniform. It's very awkward, to stand with a bunch of parents in a full police uniform in a school.

There were whispers amongst themselves and even glances in my direction. I would tell them it's weird for me too, but I'm not really in the mood to deal with them. I'm just here to pick Peter up, then go home.

That's when Peter walks up with the principal in tow. Oh god.

"Hello Mr. Kirkland"

"Miss. Olivia, what a pleasant surprise. Is there anything I can help you with?"

I could see how fake her smile was and how much she didn't like me.

She's let me know in the past she doesn't appreciate me coming to the school in full uniform. Apparently it scares the children, however plenty of children have walked up to me while I'm in uniform. "Mr. Kirkland could you step into my office?"

Oh god.

For fucks sake.

I sit in the office next to Peter, trying not to look overly annoyed as the principal went to get some things. Peter turns to me, seeming to see my annoyance, "I didn't do anything, I swear"

A slight smile ghosts my lips, "I know Peter; I think I'm in trouble this time."

Peter is very smart for a seven year old, and so he knows that if I get in trouble it usually doesn't lead to him getting into trouble. It never helps when the principal calls him in to watch her lecture me.

She walks in with what looks like art paper and sits on the other side of the desk. "Mr. Kirkland, I know your job is very important and that you might bring home work with you some nights."

Something tells me, this is more than me coming to pick up Peter in uniform. "I suppose so, however Peter is not allowed near any of our work."

That's when the pictures are laid out in front of me. Some of corpses, some of me holding a gun and even some of crying women. Each picture is hand drawn with brightly coloured crayons; they were all signed 'Peter' on the bottom. "As you can see Mr. Kirkland, he's somehow heard about your work."

I can't say anything. I had no idea that these things were going on, and I just don't know what to do about them.

I can't stop my hands running through my hair and rubbing my forehead, stressed out. A case is one thing, a child is another.

"Also, he's being picked up by someone by someone that isn't identified as one of the family. This is worrying as we are never able to get in contact with you to ask the identity of this man."

"I can understand your worry Miss. Olivia but I can assure you that I would never send someone Peter doesn't know to pick him up."

"Mr. Kirkland, this is the tenth time this month you've been called in for not only Peter's behaviour but yours as well. You've only recently become a parent, 2 years ago, but that does not excuse the way this boy is raised. He speaks about death and mental illness in a very relaxed manner and that worries staff at the school."

After the principal threatens to call authorities on our household, I take Peter home silently. Peter's head is down the whole trip, probably thinking he's done something wrong. As soon as we get home, I see Francis standing by the front door; he looks like he'd lost his key and is waiting for me to open the door for him.

"Coffee?"

"Ah, you know me well Arthur." Sitting at the table, smoking with Francis always has the uncanny ability to relieve some stress. "Tell me about life Arthur."

Life, his favourite topic, "New ransom note, principal threatening to have Peter taken away…. Nothing new."

As I take a drag from my smoke, his arms wrap around my shoulders gently. "You know, I could help you relax." The heat in my face rose as his lips rested on the top of my head.

"Francis…"

"Oui Arthur?"

"GET OFF ME!"

He laughs as he gets back to his own seat, sipping his coffee and winking at me. He always was suggestive, which is enough to drive me crazy. His advances are always during stressful times, which doesn't improve his chances.

"You should just give in Arthur, we both know you could really use this."

"Francis, I swear to god if you don't stop."

We sit in silence for a while, Francis knowing I'm not going to accept his offer today. Almost as if to save us from the awkward atmosphere, Jett runs in, "Arthur! Is my job important!?"

I frown at him in confusion. Where did this come from? "What? Um, yes it is?"

Peter quickly follows, panting softly and avoiding Jett's smug look. "Ha, I told you my job's important! Arthur said so!"

I stand and cross my arms, "What is going on?"

Peter holds out a note for me, a line on the bottom for a guardian to sign, "They want me to bring a parent to class to talk about their job. My teacher said I could bring in a brother instead."

Jett grins widely and pointed to himself, "So, since you guys are working on a case, I volunteered instead!" his enthusiasm slowly falls as his face contorts into a rare frown, "Though, Peter said my job is boring compared to yours."

"Peter Kirkland! You will take Jett to school to talk about being an emergency dispatch." I ignore the look of disbelief Peter gives me as I sit back down and sign the note. "If this is how you learn how important Jett's job is then so be it."

After Jett and Peter left the room, Jett celebrating his victory, I feel strangely compelled to take Francis' offer.

I mean, why not just once? Francis isn't bad looking and my guess is he's had his experience with men and women.

Before I change my mind, I send a text to Jett, "Take Peter to the movies or something. You'll find some money on the bookcase in a book labelled 'Shakespearian insults'"

I turn to Francis, a single finger standing tall, "Once, and once only"

…..

Standing in front of this café with Francis, I feel like laughing.

"So, this is the café you've been trying to drag me to this whole time?"

The large pink sign above our heads is hard to miss. The blue circles, that I'm guessing are meant to look like pills, decorated the sign in a chaotic beauty. The purple cursive writing is what caught me off guard. Cyanide Cupcake.

"Oui, you will enjoy your time here I swear"

Walking into the establishment, it was even more sickly sweet then the sign. Pastel pink and blue covering the walls in swirls and polka dots. The booths and tables were scattered randomly; each coated with either pink, blue or purple.

A headache grows in my head just from the mere sight of the room. How could anyone find this establishment relaxing?

"Why did you bring me here?"

"Because you don't go out enough Arthur" ,I roll my eyes at hearing that line once again. Francis quickly notices how ridiculous I think he's being, "I'm serious Arthur. You are only 26 and you're dealing with 5 boys in your care. Not to mention work."

I glare as he drags me to a booth near the back. As private as that sounds, it's the most brightly coloured booth in the whole café.

Soon after I take a seat, a man drenched in hot pink skips over. His bright smile claims the bottom half of his face while his light blue eyes cover the rest under hair so blonde it looks almost pink. The mere sight of him leads me to question my sanity; how could this man find his attire pleasant to the eye?

"Hi! Hello! What can I get you? Tea? Coffee? Cakes?"

His chatter. It was horrific, "Tea please, I won't stay too long."

Francis' face falls with obvious disappointment. What was he expecting? Me to enjoy the sickening décor and annoying staff?

At least I can get some work done while I'm here. Talk to the owner about the Vargas boys' fear of him and the exchange that may happen in a few days.

Francis orders a coffee and the man leaves us in an awkward silence. "You don't intend to stay Arthur?"

I roll my eyes and use all my will power to glare significantly less then I feel I should, "Why would I stay? This café is an eyesore and the staff get on my nerves."

"Arthur, you need to calm down"

I can't help as my hands smack down on the table and my body rises to tower over him. I can't help the twitch in my eye from the stress as my voice grows in volume, "calm down!? CALM DOWN!? SOME OF US CAN'T LIVE THE PERFECT 20s LIFESTYLE! SOME OF US PICKED UP RESPONSIBILITIES TOO EARLY AND HAVE TO DEAL WITH THEM! SOME OF US ARE TERRYFIED FOR OTHER PEOPLE!"

Before my rant can continue, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to see a taller man wearing a red plaid shirt and his blonde hair in a careless ponytail. His violent eyes glare down at me dangerously, "Sir, we don't appreciate that behaviour in this café. Families eat here."

I quick survey of the room, I see children and parents stare me horrified. I had forgotten to change and they were seeing a police officer yell at a civilian, not one friend venting their stress to another. With a slow deliberate breath, I sit back down and place me face in my hands. Francis apologizes for me and I hear the man walk away.

"Arthur, no need to cause a scene"

I try to ignore the world, ignore Francis, and ignore the café. Let me just ignore existence before being thrown into it again. Though leaving myself to my thoughts tend to make things worse.

Peter's going to get taken!

Three men are going to die if you don't solve this case!

It's all on you!

If you fail everyone with be miserable!

My wish is granted and no one interferes, until, "Officer, Officer your tea is here"

I look up to find the same wide-smiled, blue eyed pink man from before; He places my tea in front of me while Francis sips his coffee. "Oh, thank you."

"On the house, to thank you for all your hard work."

I'm slightly taken back, "I can pay for it; you don't have to thank me"

The smile turns slightly sad as he leans in slightly, "You are Officer Kirkland, right?" without waiting for an answer he holds an arm closer to his side and looks down slightly, " Mr. Bielschmidt told me about what you're doing about the missing Vargas'. Feliciano and Lovino such nice boys, I hope you find them soon."

I sigh softly and turn to them properly, "Can you tell me where the owner is?"

The confusion on his face is short lived but obvious, "That's me sir"

"Could I ask you how well you know the Vargas family?"

The man stood silently, looking to the ceiling in thought, "I guess I don't know them that well. I know the Grandpa likes my coffee, the older brother refuses to come in because the colour is too bright and the younger thinks this place is haunted."

My brow furrows in confusion at the sudden mention of unreasonable things. Haunted? Fat chance. "How do you know them?"

The smile seems to grow, somehow, "I am a valued customer. A friend of mine doesn't like leaving their house, but they love Vargas wine. Almost as much as they love a good smoke"

I nod and look back at my tea, "Thank you, for your answers… And the tea."

I won't bother with the exchange. We might be able to stop it happening.

The man, satisfied with my response, walks away to help other customers and Francis kicks my shins, "Hey! What was that for!?"

"Working, I brought you here to relax and, as god as my witness, you will relax."

I can't help the smile that crawls across my face or the sigh that leaves my lips. Nothing like physical abuse to help brighten up your day. So I brighten Francis' day using the same method. "Ow! Arthur!"

I laugh softly, which causes Francis to smile. "Arthur, it's been a long time since I've seen you laugh genuinely"

I don't know why, but that sentence never fails to make me feel guilty. I mean, think about it. I'm caring for a seven year old and my oldest friend hasn't seen me happy in years? Did I fuck up my own life?

As I'm stuck in my thoughts, a platinum blonde man walks in. He looks like one of those 'hipsters'. Clothes stylish and face as smug as it can get.

He sits and order his coffee, something about him draws my attention. Everyone's attention is on him, even Francis stares. This man, looks as though there's more to him. But is it the kind of thing you want to get involved with?

…

Francis stayed for tea, which is usually chaos and destruction filled with arguments and laughter. I guess that's life in a house filled with young men and a young boy. Though tonight, it's pleasantly quiet and well-mannered. I think Francis may have talked to the boys at some point, as they're never this well-behaved.

Almost as if to ruin my night, I receive a phone call from a number I don't recognise. I excuse myself from the table and make my way to the living room alone.

"Hello, Arthur Kirkland speaking"

"Good evening Officer, I work with the Child Protection Services. I've called to ask you a few questions"

W-What? Did the Principle really call them? Oh god. But, I care for Peter, I swear I do!

"Officer Kirkland?"

"Oh, um, sorry. What are your questions?"

The questioning went on and on. Asking about Peter, asking about my job, my house, anything! The questions just kept coming, until we finally said our goodbyes. As we did, all the boys had wandered into the room; curious as to what was taking so long.

Matthew was the first to speak, "Who was that Arthur?"

I just sat and stared forward for a moment before answering, "It was no one, nothing important." I look over at Peter who looks as if he's about to fall asleep right there, "Come on Peter, time for bed."

As I help him into bed, he decides to speak up softly, "I'm sorry you got in trouble Arthur."

I'm not sure how to respond. It takes me a moment to think of something before saying, "It's not your fault Peter, but maybe you shouldn't draw anything that has to do with my job. Ok?"

Peter nods groggily before tucking himself in and closing his eyes.

I make my way downstairs, only to get stopped by Jett and Toby. Jett was the first to speak up, "What's going on Arthur?"

Nothing gets past these boys, nothing I do at least. "Let me past and I'll inform everyone." Even though they're my little brothers, they both tower over me slightly which is a little irritating but I learn to live with it.

They all sit and wait for me to explain, but I don't know if I can find the words. We were always aware that this would be a risk, but were never prepared for it.

"I was on the phone with child protection services."

Alfred frowns, confused slightly, "Why? What do they have to do with anything?"

I cross my arms and scowl at the ground. "They deem me an unfit guardian."


	4. Chapter 4

The stress Arthur's under is crazy

Not only do we have next to no leads on the Vargas case, but child protective services are threatening to take Peter.

It would suck to have the little dude taken.

Oh! Let me introduce myself!

I'm Alfred F Jones THE HERO!

Now I know what you're thinking, why do I have a different last name to my big bro Matt?

After we were adopted, Arthur let us pick our last names, so to honour our parents Matt took our Mom's maiden name and I took our Dad's last name.

Good idea huh?

It was totally my idea!

Anyway, Arthur and I are on our way to the lab Toby works at, we just got word that the blood testing and stuff was done. Just in time too, the transfer is meant to happen tomorrow.

As I'm driving, I notice just how tired Arthur is. I don't think he slept a wink last night. Without too much thought, I reach for my unopened energy drink and hand it to him, "Here, have a blue cow. You look like you need it."

Without a word, he takes the can from me and opens it. Usually Arthur would argue with me about how bad these things are for you, and I sorta wish he was arguing with me. It would get his mind off the Peter thing going on.

"You're more depressed about this then you probably should be Artie."

I see his face turn into a scowl and I figure I've achieved my goal, "why wouldn't I be depressed about this? Peter is part of the family and he might be taken…. AND I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME ARTIE!"

I chuckle and send a smirk in his direction, "what if I like the name Artie more than Arthur?"

Arthur starts to lecture me on the importance of respect, though I'm not really listening. I'm just glad he's not moping anymore; a yelling Arthur is much more fun.

It's almost perfect timing that I park the car as Arthur finishes his latest rant. Both of us get out of the car and head for Toby's lab.

"Yo! Toby! Got something for us!?"

He turns to us with a tired smile stretching across his face, "Oh, hello Alfred. I thought Arthur was bringing Matthew."

"How do you know I'm not actually Matthew? People get us mixed up all the time."

Arthur rolls his eyes at me before retorting, "Until you open your mouth."

With a small chuckle, Toby hands us a folder, "I was able to find the DNA of a young man who emigrated from Germany, Trier."

"Yes, but who, and where do they live?"

Toby just smiles and points to the folder before turning to work for, probably, another case.

We go back to the car so we can stay out of Toby's way and Arthur opens the folder, "It's a Lutz Schmidt. Says here he's hasn't committed any crimes here, he's just had to pick a man up from holding a couple of times."

I grin as I get the car started, "Alright well, tell me where he lives Artie."

…

Working on a case is a good distraction.

I know I should be more concerned with the lives of this family then my own personal problems while we look for this man's house, but I can't help it.

Have I failed as a brother?

The house the address leads to is slightly out of town. While parking the car, Alfred and I see a chicken coop and three dogs resting on a porch. It's very peaceful, so quiet if you don't mind the sound of chickens.

I'm jealous. To live somewhere this peaceful instead of in town surrounded by people it seems like the life.

As Alfred knocks on the door I begin to wonder about what kind of person we would be dealing with. I'm not shocked as a tall, muscular, blonde man opens the door. A scar runs down his left cheek, just under his striking purple-pink eyes. "Hallo?"

"Hello, Mr. Schmidt I presume?"

He doesn't look surprised. He doesn't look the slightest bit of confused or embarrassed to have two police officers at his front door. Though, he also looks as if he'd be hard to read anyway. "Ja, are we going to talk here or should I call someone to care for my brother?"

The surprise that this man is so cooperative shocks both Alfred and I into silence for a moment. It isn't too long, however, until Alfred finds his voice again, "Um, you're going to have to call someone to care for your brother. Although, we'd also like to call an officer here to keep an eye on both your brother and whoever you call."

He lights a cigarette as he pulls out his phone. Alfred pulls out his own phone and calls Matthew, while I'm left to smoke by the car. Why's the suspect so calm? Were they able to guess what we found at the crime scene?

I'm so confused, I don't notice Alfred until he's smacked the back of my head. "Come on Artie, you shouldn't be smoking on the job"

"You shouldn't be thinking you can tell me what to do. Can Matthew get here?"

Alfred nods and pulls the fag out of my mouth before dropping it onto the ground, "He said he should be here in a few minutes."

I notice a car pull in to the driveway and park behind the cruiser as Alfred finishes his sentence. A blonde young man pulls himself out of it, though something about him seems familiar.

The man walks by us as if we aren't even there before knocking on the front door. "Luuutz! I'm heeeere!"

….

Hey, my name is Jett and I am walking into my little brother's school to give a presentation.

Ok, I'm running.

I slept in this morning and I think Peter's still a little sour about Arthur making him choose me to speak to his class.

I don't see why he's so embarrassed, being an emergency dispatch is really important. Although, I guess it isn't as impressive as detective, forensic scientist or negotiator. Someone like me doesn't go out on the field with a gun or apprehend bad guys. I answer phones all day, usually to pranks from kids like these.

When I get to the classroom, I see a parent doing a speech. I decide to wait outside, I'll knock when they're finished so I don't interrupt them or anything. That's when I notice them wearing a suit, like a full blown grey suit with a black tie.

I look down at my own clothes, black slacks and a blue short sleeved button up shirt with an Emergency symbol on the breast pocket. I don't fit in here, I'm also not a parent. Argh, I'm only 20 and I have to give a speech in front of kids!?

What was I thinking?

As soon as I hear an applause from the kids inside, I knock on the door and make sure a massive grin is stuck to my face. I can't be feeling self-conscious now, I have to have a fair go. I'll make Peter proud of me.

The teacher opens the door and gives me a confused look, "Yes?"

"Um, G'day ma'am. I'm here for the parent career thing."

"Of course sir, and which one's your child?"

I chuckle awkwardly before correcting her, "Actually I'm Peter's older brother."

The teacher smile slightly, "Ah, you must be Arthur Kirkland."

I frown before glancing in Peter's direction, who has his face in his hands. He probably scratched my name out and replaced it with Arthur's, "Actually I'm Jett Kirkland; Arthur has to work on a case."

"Oh, I see, well why don't you go take a seat next to your brother. Don't worry we've only just started."

I take a seat next to Peter, trying to ignore the stares I'm getting from both children and parents alike. The parents don't seem to be wearing their uniforms, if they have one. Did I do this wrong? Was I supposed to turn up in a suit and tie thing?

Woo, it's pretty stuffy in here.

"Peter, why don't you introduce your big brother and his profession to the class?"

Both Peter and I freeze before we get up and walk to the front of the class. When we do get to the front, Peter lowers his head before raising his hand in my direction, "This is my big brother Jett Kirkland. Jett is an emergency dispatch."

Peter walks to his seat, not looking any of his classmates in the eye. They all look at me with disappointment, they were probably hoping that Peter would have one of his police officer brothers come in to talk. They probably want stories of a wild chase, with sirens flashing and tires screeching.

I don't live that life. Well, I don't get paid to.

I don't want to live that life, I'd rather help in a different way.

I suck in a deep breath and give the kids a good grin. They weren't gonna scare me away from doing what I came here to do. Tell them about my good old job in the office.

"G'day, I'm Jett Kirkland. As Peter said I'm not a police officer, but I do work for them. Who here has ever had to call for an emergency?"

No kid raises their hand, and I know at least one of them are lying. Peter has his head down and doesn't seem to want to listen. I'm not sure if the decision I make is a good one, but I'm doing it anyway, "Come on Peter; don't lie."

Before too long, Peter's hesitantly raising his hand. He looks embarrassed, I have no idea why though. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you needed help. How else are the cops meant to catch the people committing a crime?"

A kid raises his hand and I can't help but chuckle a little bit. I'm not really used to this, "Yeah?"

"Does your job ever get boring?"

My smile becomes slightly solemn, though I try to hide it behind a big grin, "No way, every day we get at least one call. Sometimes we get a call over something very silly, like a teenager being left at home for the first time and thinking they heard something. Though, I'm glad they did call. If someone was in the house and she didn't call the police wouldn't know and wouldn't go to take care of the situation."

Another hand reaches upwards, "Yeah?"

"Do you ever get jealous of the police officers?"

I actually have to think about this one. "Well, I guess I get a little jealous of my big brother sometimes. When I do, I remember that without me Arthur wouldn't able to know those crimes happened. Without emergency dispatch, the people wouldn't have a way to contact the police, the ambulance or the fire department. This job is a way to help people when you can't be a police officer."

"Is that what happened to you?"

A voice from the back of the room. It wasn't a child's, it was a parents. I think they were curious, why else would they ask. When I see their face, I realise what they're doing. They are undermining my career, and I'm not sure how to react.

After a moment of thought, I figure I tell the truth, "Yeah, I couldn't complete the training to become an officer. Both my twin brother and I didn't pass, so we chose to help in a different way. So kids, if you want to be a police officer and it gets tough, remember there's always another way to help out."

"So your career started with a failure?"

I can't say anything mean. It's not in my nature, and I'm in uniform so it'll reflect badly on the emergency services. I'm about to respond when Peter stands and faces the parent, "If it hadn't been for Jett, I wouldn't have been able to get police to stop a burglar. He told the police and stayed on the phone with me while I was really scared that they were going to hurt me! Jet was really brave!"

My eyes widen slightly as Peter runs over to me and hugs my waist. He's sobbing softly, probably afraid he was going to get into trouble for yelling at an adult. I nod at the teacher before taking Peter outside, holding him close.

"Hey, it'll be ok. Stop crying. It's ok"

…..

I'm sitting the Schmidt living room, watching this blonde man make three mugs of coffee.

As soon as I entered the house to keep an eye on the older Schmidt and his caretaker, the blonde had told me to make myself at home. There's something about him that makes me hesitant to trust him.

When he returns, he rests a mug in front of me before knocking on a door softly, "Akbar! Akbar, come out and have some coffee."

The man that leaves the room, has eyes the colour of rubies that had somehow dulled to be a shadow of what they probably were before. His white hair trails past his shoulders, though looks as though it hasn't been washed in a long time. The clothes seem to be what he woke up in that morning, dishevelled and comfortable looking.

"Damn it Akbar, when's the last time you showered? You will take a shower before I give you any coffee."

Akbar seems to focus his gaze on me, raising a whiteboard that I hadn't noticed was in his hands the whole time, "I just want to sleep Flavio"

As soon as the blonde read the board, he shoves Akbar to another door pulling his shirt off him as he reached for the knob, "You. Shower. Now."

Once the door shuts, Flavio sits across from me. His legs are crossed and his hand is open and inviting me to a handshake, "Ciao! My name is Flavio."

I accept the gesture in good faith, "Officer Williams. May I ask why you care for Akbar?"

Flavio rolls his eyes, so I assume he's heard this question before, "His brother is over-protective of him. If Lutz can't take care of him; he makes sure someone can. I don't know why I'm his go to guy, but I guess trying to get Akbar to liven up is a fun little project."

"He's a human being, you shouldn't treat him like a toy."

As soon as I say that, Flavio laughs. It's full of a selfish malice, though it also seems to hint a sadness, "Oh officer, just because someone is human, doesn't mean you can't toy with them."

The playfulness in his voice, it sounds awful. I wish I could arrest this man for how he views the man currently showering, but he's doing nothing illegal. From what I can see, he doesn't verbally or emotionally abuse the man. He seems harmless.

"Why is Lutz protective? Has Akbar done something to warrant the worry?"

Flavio shrugs, his smile gently falling into a neutral frown, "I don't think so. Though, Akbar does get depressed very easily. Maybe Lutz think he'll try something if left alone for too long. I don't think he will while Lutz is alive and needs his big brother."

The way Flavio talks about the relationship between the Schmidts, I begin to understand him a little better. There's envy, he wants what the Schmidts have. "Tell me Flavio, do you have a brother?"

Flavio's face finally falls. I'm not sure how to describe it, his eyes are directed to the floor and his brow is scrunched as though he's troubled, "Si, I have a little brother. We don't really talk unless we have to. We aren't close, and I don't think he gives a shit about me."

I sip the coffee slowly, wondering how that would feel. What if one day Alfred got distant?

I don't think I could handle it.

"Brothers are strange like that. I have 4 younger brothers and each one acts differently."

Akbar leaves the bathroom in only a towel which urges a soft blush across my face. Flavio's reaction, however, was slightly different "Akbar, put some clothes on, you're embarrassing the nice police officer."

Akbar raises his whiteboard, apparently having written on it before leaving the bathroom, 'you didn't let me grab fresh clothes before pushing me into the bathroom.'

Watching the two interact, it's interesting. Flavio definitely has a level of respect for Akbar, and Akbar seems to just be playing along.

It's an interesting mutual respect you would never guess if you just listened to Flavio's side of the relationship.

…

"Mr. Schmidt, please. If you want to leave, all you have to do is explain to us why your blood was at the crime scene."

The blonde man was stubbornly quiet, causing both myself and Alfred to scowl. His blood was at the crime scene, either he give us an explanation or…. That's it. "Well, I guess we have no choice but to arrest you. We'll hold you in contempt until we can find the Vargas'. No private conversations."

With the lack of private calls, the young man's head sprung up, "What!?"

"We can't have you calling someone who helped you commit the crime now can we? Although, if you told us what you were doing, that might get you some privacy with the phone."

After the long, looong questioning session that got nothing, we finally hear, "I was hired to kidnap the two boys and their grandpa. I was told to keep them unharmed, and I did. I took them to an alley near Cyanide cupcake where I left them. I got paid the day after, the money was left at my door."

Alfred pipes up, sitting on the edge of the desk, "So, you don't know who hired you?"

Schmidt shakes his head, "I think it might've been… An old friend."

I lean forward, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Name?"

The hesitance is written all over his face, maybe he was blackmailed into doing this job. I guess that could explain his loyalty to whoever this man was. Seeming to have realised an advantage to tell us, he responds with, "Luciano Varda, if you want to get in contact with him I have his older brother caring for my brother at my house, Flavio Varda."

I turn to Alfred before demanding him to, "Call Matthew, tell him to bring in Mr. Schmidt and Mr. Varda." Schmidt sat in silence, refusing to look at me or look up at all as we heard Alfred leave the room. I remain in the room to keep an eye on him, "Did they blackmail you Mr. Schmidt?"

The young man doesn't look at me, pondering his answer or whether or not he should answer… "Why?"

"Well, if they did, you might be excused of your crime, did they blackmail you Mr. Schmidt and what with?"

Another silence lingers for a little while before Schmidt sighs, "They said they were going to hurt my brother, and since Flavio watches him when I can't I thought they had easy access to him."

What he says makes sense, and could get him a less severe punishment for the kidnapping. Though, this'll all depend on the cooperation of the older brother at this point.

We wait until Alfred returns to tell me Matthew is on his way. Leaving the young man to deal with himself for a little while, I exit to greet Matthew and update him on what to do.

….

Flavio glares at me. He'd voiced his annoyance with me the whole trip here.

Akbar didn't look too annoyed, it's a shame I had to leave him out in the office under the care of my little brother. Akbar would probably less trouble, since I don't interrogate often I'm a little nervous.

"So, Mr. Varda, where's your little brother Luciano?"

"How should I know Officer Williams? I told you before I don't really talk to him anymore."

A sigh leaves my lips before I can stop it, crossing my arms I wonder what I can say or do to get some sort of answer from him. No one just gives up on their brother right? No one just loses contact with their little brother…. Right?

"Mr. Varda, I highly doubt you don't know anything about your brother. I can doubt you have anything to do with what he's doing but I can't say you don't know where he has been before. Is there any place he went to frequently when you two were talking?"

Flavio just rolls his eyes, pouting like a 5 year old who's try to say he didn't cut his doll's hair with the scissors in his hand, "I haven't spoken to my little brother in years Officer Williams. I don't know anything."

Ok, it looks like I'm not getting anything while just giving him a chance. I pull out the folder Alfred gave me concerning the Varda's, "Mr. Varda, I understand you want to keep your brother out of trouble. But, there's only record of one house with residents under the name Varda in this area. With the information we have, Luciano Varda is in this area. If you tell me what you know now, you might get a lesser punishment then if Officer Kirkland walks in."

Something in the way Flavio's head moves has me believe I'm making progress. Instead of looking down his nose, he's now looking me in the eye. I'd like to believe it's because telling us would be the right thing to do, but I think it has more to do with the fact that he could get a lesser punishment then the brother he claims to have no connection with.

"Alright, you caught me. He tends to be on the phone with someone a lot. He talks about money and a café. Ahhh, what's it called? Oh yeah, Cyanide Cupcake."

The place where the exchange is meant to happen. That must be what Flavio's talking about. Luciano's planning it while on the phone with someone else.

"Let's see, he also said something about disposing of someone if it helps. I don't really know much about what he does while I'm out or working."

Disposing of someone?

I feel my gaze drag down onto the floor as I stand to make my exit. I hope that someone isn't dead as I grab the folder and turn towards the door. "Thank you for your answers Mr. Varda"

…..

As I wake up, I notice the only sound I hear is Feli's crying. I barely remember anything that happened before I slipped out of consciousness, I just know that it hurt.

Before I open my eyes, I feel something brush against my foot which shoots a burning feeling up my leg. I can't help the cry that rips itself from my throat as my eyes fly open.

"A-Ah Fratello! You're awake!"

I ignore him as I slowly use my hands to push myself into a sitting position. The pain that shoots through my chest causes me to cry out again, quickly gritting my teeth to try and stop myself from screaming.

"P-Please lie down Fratello, y-you're too injured to sit up."

I don't want to lie down. I want to stand and run away. "W-Where's Grandpa?"

Feliciano tilts his head, furrowing his brow in thought before answering, "W-What do you mean fratello?"

"Y-You two are playing a joke on me again. Aren't you? He's probably hiding in the garden… right? RIGHT!?"

He wraps his arms around me and holds me close, both of us crying without any control, "Th-That's right fratello. He's hiding, but I can't tell you where. Y-You have to find him y-yourself. That's how the game works."


End file.
